rivers_bend

I need to start by saying I do NOT ship these two in any way. But tigertrapped posted a question about a fic and this image of Mark Brydon with his burned hands presented itself with this plot and it wouldn't go away and leave me alone. And I mentioned it to tigertrapped and she said, 'Please tell me you're writing that.' So I did. And she said I should post it.

This is not a deep and meaningful look into characterisation. It's porn. Hard, sub/Dom, unrepentant porn. It does however assume some knowledge of the first episode of The State Within. Nicholas/Mark Adult rated ~1,000 words.


The burns don’t hurt until Nicholas grabs Mark by the shoulders. Pulls him back and away from the car that's about to explode. They sting and ache and feel raw all through the meetings and briefings and arguments that fill the afternoon. He doesn't even stop to wash them until they've exhausted all the words and there's nothing left but Nicholas' steady gaze and a hundred half empty coffee cups.

He lets Nicholas fill the sink, soaking soot out of his fingers, rubbing cream into the burns, and only hisses through his teeth, not once making a sound as the red and blistered flesh is subjected to the attentions of Nicholas' thumbs. He wants to apologise, wants Nicholas to forgive him for disobeying orders, for risking his life in the rain of smoking debris, trying to save a woman he didn't even know. The pain is mitigated by the feel of Nicholas' fingers warm on the back of his hands, by the look on Nicholas' face as he smoothes the cream, as though he's concentrating on something precious.

Finally he speaks. 'You disobeyed me,' he says, looking Mark in the eye, ensuring Mark knows the gravity of the situation.

Suddenly Nicholas isn't his aide, wasn't concerned as a body-guard, and Mark relaxes, knowing where he stands. 'Yes, sir.' They're on the same page, Nicholas' fingers tightening on his hands, thumbs finding the pulses in his wrists, his tongue wetting his lips.

'You need to be punished.' Nicholas' breathing is shallow and Mark's cock stiffens.

'Yes, sir.'

'I had to risk my life to save you. Do you agree that I should be rewarded?'

Mark looks down, mouth filling at the sight of Nicholas trapped, hard, in his trousers.

'Oh, yes,' he says, and sinks to his knees.

Nicholas pushes Mark's hands away from his fly. 'I don’t want Neosporin on my trousers.'

Hands crossed behind his back, Mark waits while Nicholas frees himself from his clothes. Taking his cock in his fist, he presents the head to Mark's lips. 'Kiss it.'

Mark does, using his lips and then opening his mouth to use his tongue. He wants this, but he won't beg. This is his duty, to reward Nicholas, it's not for his pleasure. A hand closes on the back of his head and he's shoved forward, cock pushed past his teeth and he tries to breathe and swallow in time to take it. His chin bumps Nicholas' fingers, still closed around the base of his cock and the throat fucking doesn't come.

'Do your hands hurt?' Nicholas is moving his fist shallowly, rubbing the head of his cock on Mark's tongue.

Mark nods, careful not to bite, and makes a noise of assent in the back of his throat.

'I'm going to fuck your face while you punish yourself.'

Mark looks up, hoping the question is there in his eyes, that it isn't impertinent for him to ask for clarification.

'Take out your cock. Fist it. Both hands. I want to see you fucking your fists like it's the tightest arse you've ever had. And keep your throat open. I want that too.'

Fingers fumbling, pain from the blisters making him clumsy as he tries to work the zipper, Mark moans, hoping Nicholas will let him come if he does as he's asked. He takes a deep breath as Nicholas moves the hand on his cock to cup Mark's face. With a practiced tilt of Mark's head and a neat thrust, Nicholas is fucking his throat. It's hard to breathe, fingers are digging into his head and there is no place he'd rather be.

The feel of his cock in his hand is shocking. He tries to gasp, chokes instead and Nicholas gives him time to take a breath before he's fucking him again, harder than before. Pain shoots up his arms and feeds the hunger in his chest. The cream is thick on his hands, slicking his cock, making the friction exquisite, but not mitigating the agony he feels in his palms. He thinks he can't concentrate on all the sensations at once, but Nicholas ignores his struggles, using his mouth and throat as though he's nothing, so he gives up thinking about it, focusing instead on sliding into the double fists he's made around his cock. It feels like he's flaying the skin down to the bone and he hears a whine in his head.

The vibrations make Nicholas groan, grip tighter, say, 'Faster, harder, you're not stopping until you come.' He's panting now, close, but Mark knows he can slow down, make it last until he's ready to let Mark up.

This pain is harder to weave into the pleasure he's feeling than the pain of being whipped or slapped or fucked dry and tight, but he takes it in, feels the punishment that it's meant to be, and lets it bleed through his nerves. Fucking with his hips as well as his hands, the pain makes points of his nipples, brings out sweat on his neck and face, tightens the muscles of his stomach and thighs and makes his cock feel like fire. He's burning all over again, tears pricking his eyes, nothing he can do, as powerless as he was in the face of a bomb on a plane.

With no warning at all, the balance tips, pain into lust so strong he's coming before he knows it's going to happen. Nicholas has been watching and somehow saw, because he's filling Mark's mouth with salt-sweet come, shaking on his feet.

They pull apart, Mark dropping back to sit on his heels, Nicholas moving to sit on the edge of the bath. Mark looks at his hands where he has them propped on his knees, stunned by how angry they look, the pain still buzzing under his skin.

'Here,' Nicholas says, standing and turning on the tap at the sink. 'The cold will help. Do you think you'll remember next time to listen when I give you an order to stay?'

'I'll try, sir.'

'That is all I ask.'